


War Dogs

by mystery_deer



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crushes, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Not BBC Sherlock, area man yells at cloud, dubious time period but more modern, friends to slightly more than friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 00:42:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18510445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystery_deer/pseuds/mystery_deer
Summary: Sherlock and John wait out a storm.





	War Dogs

Down on the streets people ducked into storefronts, under bus stops and into cabs. Others rushed home or to a friend’s house, droves of children laughed and held their arms out as if embracing the sky. 

London was in the midst of a storm.

“I’m not a dog you know.” John growled, leaning back in the empty bathtub that Sherlock had crammed them both into.   
“Yes, I’ve seen plenty of dogs in my lifetime and none of them have been quite so afraid of storms as you.”  
“I’ll leave!” John threatened and Sherlock smiled, his expression illuminated for a short instance as lightning struck. The loud boom of thunder followed, sending waves of roiling anxiety through John. “God…” he knew it was unfounded, that he was safe. But he felt on guard and afraid, the feeling of anxiety triggering his anxiety. 

“Deep breaths Watson.” Right, right...deep breathing. He tried to time it but couldn’t focus, couldn’t… “Here…”  
Sherlock took his hand and squeezed it tightly. “Inhale as my grip tightens and exhale as it loosens. Inhale….exhale…..” they continued like that, chests rising and falling and hands intertwined for what seemed like ions. 

“Thank you.” John whispered, unsure of why he was suddenly being quiet. He felt as if they were on the edge of something new and beautiful and that any sudden movements or loud noises would propel them backwards.  
“You taught me, do you remember?” He did. He remembered vividly he and Sherlock holding hands once before, the other man shaking and unable to speak and John repeating that he was safe he was safe he was safe. “One good turn deserves another.” 

John was nearly relaxed again when another boulder of thunder crashed into earth. His hands flew up to his ears and he exhaled sharply. Even Sherlock began to rock back and forth, his back hitting porcelain. John thought distantly that it must be difficult to rock in a bathtub without slipping. “What cowards we are.” He remarked. Sherlock wrapped his arms around his knees but looked calmer by the moment.   
“We are not cowards. Especially not you Watson.” They paused. “We should make some noise of our own.” Sherlock lept from the tub as suddenly as a cat and began to run the faucet water.

“I thought you disliked noise?” John asked, staying seated.   
“You’re thinking of my brother.” Was Sherlock’s reply, turning back to face him. “I revel in sound.”

The lights were all still off in their flat but they went to work without turning them on, a silent agreement. Maybe they both knew that in the light their actions would be revealed as silly or whatever they were hurtling towards together would cease to exist.

They were ready the next time the thunder came. Their apartment was lit up by lightning and John shouted out a war cry, Sherlock followed suit by sending pots and pans crashing to the ground at the same time as the thunder that followed.   
Thunder came again and they combated it by turning on the television and singing loudly along with the commercials that they’d seen a hundred times before.   
It came again while they were dancing, the radio’s volume dialed up to as high as it would allow. They flailed their limbs and laughed. Occasionally engaging each other but mostly just moving, shouting and howling at mother nature’s own music.

Soon John forgot that there was sound outside of their own erratic beat, rushing from room to room with Sherlock in tow, out of breath and happy. He hadn’t felt like this since childhood, this wild, violent bliss.   
As the sun began to rise the thunder slowed, and they no longer screamed or stamped their feet, it had become a friend to them. Instead of an earth shattering assault on their ears it had subsided into a low rumble. “It’s afraid of us.” John said, sitting in the bathtub once more. “It knows that we’re louder than it can ever be.”

“Mm.” Sherlock replied thoughtfully, on the opposite end of the tub. “When I was younger my brother would teach me how to tell that the storm was passing.”  
“Didn’t you two have parents?”   
“If we did I can’t remember them.” It was hard to tell when the other man was joking sometimes, but John laughed regardless.   
“I learned to, from my mother.” He said, voice drenched in sleep. “She taught us to count the time between the sound. The longer it took the further away it was.”  
“Yes, like a baby.” Sherlock said, John nodded. “We should get up.” John nodded again.

They instead drew closer together, eyes heavy with need for rest after exerting themselves throughout the duration of the night. They held each other and counted the seconds between claps. 

1….2….3….4…  
They were both slightly wet from splashing the faucet water around, John thought the droplets that clung to Sherlock’s hair looked like dew.   
5…..6…  
Sherlock felt John’s heartbeat, it was much slower than his own. Their eyes met, it quickened. Thunder.  
1...2....3..  
They moved just slightly, just so. They were closer now, staring into each other’s eyes. Their hearts beating as one. As one.  
4...5...6...7…8...  
Their legs were tangled up and John’s arm would be sore the next morning, or that afternoon. Thunder.  
1…2...3…  
Their fingers intertwined.  
4...5...6..  
Their breaths hitched, eyes closed.  
7...8...9..  
They moved ever closer...ever closer.   
10…  
Their lips met each other, a shock to the senses, an earth shattering collision.   
Thunder.


End file.
